


Bad Allergies

by ratboyratboy



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Universe, Modern Era, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratboyratboy/pseuds/ratboyratboy
Summary: In the events of the summer of 1989, Stanley Uris is left mutilated.





	Bad Allergies

**Author's Note:**

> this is MEGA short, basically yosemite has no 4G or wifi so bitches make do!

In the events of the summer of 1989, Stanley Uris is left mutilated. 

Stanley is left with a constant, painful, clearly reminder of what happened to him and his friends. This reminder haunts him. The possibly hundreds of tiny white scars show up horribly clearly on his tan, olive skin, and serve contrast to his black curls. They are incredibly visible- and anyone who tries to comfort him, saying they “aren’t even that noticeable” is a liar and Stanley will be the first to tell them that.

As the years go by, every time Stanley looks in the mirror, he is reminded of seeing the Deadlights from the inside of that horrible paintings mouth. He assumes as well that these scars on his face reminds his friends of the tragic events of that summer, since none of them ever notice or care to ask how he got them. 

Stan continues to think this way until their senior year. Richie’s going to some performing arts school in California, Bill’s off to Oxford, Mike is staying here in Derry, and Stan himself is leaving for Georgia. The day of their graduation, Bill takes him to one side.   
“Sta-st-stan,” he says, placing a firm hand on Stan’s shoulder.   
“Yeah?”  
“H-huh-how did you g-get those sc-scars? Ruh-richie’s been trying to w-work it out for years and h-huh-he was always too emb-barrassed to ask.”  
Stan had stopped hearing anything Bill was saying after the question had been asked. His stomach dropped and a strange sense of dread washed over him. His thoughts went at a mile a minute, questions upon questions popping up.  
Is he joking? Does he not remember? Is he talking about other scars? The ones littering my arms and legs? Why would he be asking about those, I’ve told him before? Does he not remember the summer? How can he not remember the summer?

Stan swallows hard. He feels hot tears stinging the sides of his eyes. What is he supposed to say to that? He shakes his head.   
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says firmly. Bill shrugs.   
“Ah-alright, man. T-tuh-talk to me about it if you wa-wah-wanna.” He walks off, leaving Stan alone under the bleachers.  
Stan takes a deep, shaky breath. A sob bubbles up in his throat, and he makes no effort to stop it from coming out. The sob is not loud, it’s the sort of quiet, angry sob that you do when something’s hurting impossibly bad. And this does hurt impossibly bad. 

Stanley Uris sinks to the floor, for once not caring about getting grass stains on his trousers. He has never felt more alone.


End file.
